


Roused and Aroused

by the_random_writer



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: M/M, Sexual Humor, Sleep, Wake-Up Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8082064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_random_writer/pseuds/the_random_writer
Summary: Zane has his work cut out for him persuading Ty to get out of bed.





	

Zane pushed at the heavy door and padded into the darkened room. It was coming up on quarter past ten, but shockingly, his husband was still completely and totally out for the count.

Zane himself had been up now for more than an hour, and had long since eaten, showered and dressed. He'd made more than a decent amount of noise as he pottered through his morning routine, including some dreadful warbling in the shower, but even his distressingly tuneless contribution to the world of song hadn't been enough to rouse the beast.

As Zane studied Ty's still slumbering form, his face fell into a worried frown. It wasn't like his other half to need quite so many hours of sleep. Granted, Ty _had_ spent most of the previous day hauling boxes of hardback books from one end of the store to the other, so perhaps he'd simply worn himself out and needed some extra shut-eye to recover. But _this_ much shut-eye?

Perhaps the more obvious explanation made the most sense, and Ty was simply getting old.

Whatever the reason for his spouse's longer than normal snooze, it was time to bring it to an end. They had an important meeting to attend today, all the way over in McLean, with none other than the Deputy Director of the CIA. Needless to say, this was _not_ a good morning to be running even a minute late.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Zane called out softly, fully expecting Ty to respond. "Time to get up now."

Not a single hair or muscle moved.

"Meow Mix," he said, louder and firmer than before. "Get up. Now."

Still nothing.

Scratch that, not quite nothing. Very slowly, with a noise like a deflating balloon, Ty let out a long breath, then quietly started to snore.

Okay, this was fucking ridiculous. There was only room for one uncooperative, slow-moving, heavy sleeper in the Grady-Garrett domestic union, and that was _him_. Ty was supposed to be the morning person half of the marriage, the one who leaped out of bed at dawn, ready, willing and (mostly) able to face whatever challenges the day contained, while Zane hunkered defensively under the quilt and wished the sun would go away.

So what should he try now?

If the bed contained a normal person, his next step would be very clear. He would reach out, grab the sleeper by the shoulder and gently but firmly shake them awake. But the person lying in the bed wasn't remotely normal, even on a good day. He was Beaumont Tyler Grady; former Recon marine and FBI special agent; parkour-practising, tiger-taming, bookstore-owning, cat-loving, mustang-driving, cheeto-chomping badass extraordinaire.

Zane knew from prior experience that if he attempted to rouse Ty by force, he would be lucky to escape with his teeth and his balls intact. Since he was rather fond of both his mandibular and testicular parts, the shaking solution was absolutely off the cards.

Fuck. They really didn't have time for this crap, not today of all days. Ty needed to get his sorry (but beautiful) ass out of the goddamn sack, right fucking now.

Zane moved to the foot of the bed, carefully lifted the end of the quilt and gently dragged his index finger up the sole of Ty's foot.

Nada. Bupkis. Zip. Zilch.

For a moment, Zane almost panicked, thinking the lack of reflex response meant Ty had quietly passed away in his sleep, until he calmly reminded himself that corpses didn't snore.

He was halfway to lifting the quilt even further to gently tickle something else, then changed his mind and stopped in his tracks. Since Ty was so far into the land of nod, that might produce the same result as a violent shake, and even if it didn't, it wasn't exactly a subtle move.

_Woo him, Garrett. Bring him round gently with romance and flowers. Leave the sucking and groping for the bedtime routine instead._

He moved back to the top of the bed and leaned in to press his lips to his husband's brow.

Ty didn't quite wake up, but the snoring stopped, and a warm smile gradually blossomed on his handsome face. "S'okay, baby girl, m'right here," he whispered, softly patting his hand on the quilt.

Zane huffed and resisted the urge to punch his ~~better~~ other half in the dick. Here he was, being all soft and warm and caring and kind, and Ty thought he was the fucking _cat_? He would give the asshole one more chance and then the shit was gonna fly.

Another kiss, as tender and teasing as the first, but slightly longer, and this time on Ty's lips.

"Hmmm," Ty murmured into Zane's mouth, finally realizing the other presence wasn't a demanding pet.

Instead of lingering to deepen the moment, Zane moved on, trailing gentle kisses as he went; down Ty's exposed neck, along the ridge of his collarbone, up to the scarred, muscular mound of his shoulder, then back to his chest and down to the grooves of his abs.

"S'real nice, babe," Ty said hoarsely, slowly but surely coming round. "Don't stop, please."

Zane smiled, happy to hear his husband awake. He tugged at the waist of Ty's pants, dragged his tongue slowly across the now-exposed strip of flesh, then nipped at a jutting hip-bone with his teeth.

All of Zane's senses were firing now. He could taste the sweat on Ty's skin, hear him breathing ragged and fast, see him clenching his fists in the sheets, feel him struggling to hold back and not thrust forward with his groin.

"Jesus, Zane," Ty groaned, finally opening his eyes. "Whatever you're gonna do, can you please just fucking do it?"

Ty was definitely up and ready to go now, in more ways than one.

Well, wasn't that a _terrible_ shame? They had an important meeting to attend in just over ninety minutes, so there was no time for dilly-dally, never mind sucky-sucky or fucky-fucky.

Zane cleared his throat, stood up straight and slapped Ty firmly on the flank of his thigh.

"Get up, marine!" he barked at his spouse, then turned to walk out of the room.

As he sauntered down the hall, he heard a loud splutter of indignation.

"Dammit, Garrett," Ty shouted after him. "You can't just leave me here like _this_!"

Zane paused at the top of the stairs. "Sure I can," he shouted back, absolutely calm and composed but wearing the world's widest, smuggest, cheesiest grin. He'd come to treasure these small moments of glorious domestic triumph, especially since they were now so few and far between.

Another loud noise, but not a splutter this time—more of a pained grunt combined with an angry wail.

"Jesus, Lone Star, please don't fucking do this to me," Ty pleaded.

"But Ty, I'm not doing _anything_ to you," Zane protested in a perfectly innocent tone.

"I know, Zane!" Ty almost roared. "That's the whole fucking problem!"

Zane's grin grew wider still. "You're a big boy, Meow Mix. You'll figure something out. Now be a dear, and go have your shower. We need to leave within the next fifteen minutes."

Another indignant huff. "I'm not going anywhere without a nice, warm helping hand," was Ty's stubborn and obstructive response. "Or a nice, warm helping mouth. Your choice. I'm easy."

Zane let out a raucous snort. As if everyone and their mother's neighbour's uncle's dog wasn't perfectly aware of _that_.

"Ty, honey, you _do_ remember who we're supposed to be having lunch with today?" he calmly enquired as he glanced at his watch.

"Course I fucking do," Ty shot back, getting even hotter under the collar. "'But is the Deputy Director of the CIA gonna smoke my sausage for me? Or politely offer to tease my weasel while we're waiting for the main course?"

"That's… _highly_ unlikely," Zane replied, trying not to giggle like a six-year-old girl at the thought of J. Michael Carter down on his knees. "But you could always ask."

"And you could always go fuck yourself," Ty muttered, but loud enough for Zane to hear.

Zane sighed, sensing the time had come to mollify the situation. "To be honest, I'd much rather fuck you," he explained, then quickly added, "just not right now, of course. Can't keep someone as important as a Deputy Director waiting."

Silence for a few moments, then, "Will you at least fuck me later?"

"Course I will, doll," Zane said soothingly. "As many times as you want. Or at least, as many times as my decrepit old body can manage."

Now it was Ty's turn to let out a violent snort. "Aww, c'mon, Lone Star, you're not decrepit," he called back, sympathetic but slightly sarcastic.

"Thanks, doll."

"A bit tattered and worn around the edges, maybe, but _not_ decrepit."

Zane snickered again and shook his head. "I'm gonna go get the car warmed up," he said to his other half. "Have your sorry ass out front in ten, or I'm damn well gonna leave it behind."

"Yeah, yeah, be right there," Ty quietly grumbled back. "Gimme five minutes to shower and dress."

"You're gonna wear your nice blue suit, right?" Zane called out as he resumed his journey down the stairs.

Another brief moment of silence, then Zane _swore_ he heard his husband grin.

"Actually, I thought I might wear my new grey one."

Ooh, that was _so_ unfair. Ty was hitting him well below the belt, now.

The suit in question was the newest and most expensive addition to Ty's now quite impressive collection—a beautiful made-to-measure number from Everard's in Downtown DC. The fact that it made him look like a GQ cover model, and instantly reduced Zane to a horny, degenerate, slavering, pawing mess, was of absolutely no consequence whatsoever.

Hmm. This was going to be very tricky.

On second thoughts, did they _really_ need to go to this meeting?


End file.
